


I'm out of my element (I can't breathe)

by Sammy_is_obsessed



Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [50]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst/Fluff, Anxceit - Freeform, Dialogue Heavy, Fluff, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, It's not detailed too much tho, Janus and Virgil comforting each other, M/M, because they both need some love, title is from a Mountain Goats Song, tw panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sammy_is_obsessed/pseuds/Sammy_is_obsessed
Summary: When Janus finds Virgil alone in the common room, sobbing and struggling to breathe, the scene can’t help but feel achingly familiar. He’s been in this position so many times, seeing Virgil at his most vulnerable – but it’s been years.So much has gone on since then, so much has changed. Bridges have been burned, at least that’s what it can’t help but feel like. Janus has seen hostility and bitterness and little else from Virgil for so long; it’s not completely unjustified, either, not nearly. He would do anything to keep Janus from seeing him like this now, Janus is sure of it.But regardless, he’s found him. And he needs to act.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: Sanders Sides Oneshots [50]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943131
Comments: 18
Kudos: 149





	I'm out of my element (I can't breathe)

When Janus finds Virgil alone in the common room, sobbing and struggling to breathe, the scene can’t help but feel achingly familiar. He’s been in this position so many times, seeing Virgil at his most vulnerable – but it’s been _years_.

So much has gone on since then, so much has changed. Bridges have been burned, at least that’s what it can’t help but feel like. Janus has seen hostility and bitterness and little else from Virgil for so long; it’s not completely unjustified, either, not nearly. He would do anything to keep Janus from seeing him like this now, Janus is sure of it.

But regardless, he’s found him. And he needs to act.

“Virgil, hey, hey,” Janus says quickly, crouching in front of Virgil sat on the couch, hugging his knees and trembling so hard, “Hey, it’s alright. Do you need me to get you, someone? Do you need Patton? Logan? Roman?”

Janus supposes perhaps Virgil wouldn’t do _anything_ to keep him from being seen this way, just most things. Because as impossible as it often seems, something’s been established between them in the last few months. What it is, Janus can’t possibly say. But he can assess with confidence that whatever it is, it’s raw, and it’s fragile, and it feels moment from breaking each day.

He doesn’t think he can call them friends. Friends don’t have this much built-up hostility, at least not healthy relationships. Friends don’t look at each other that way, sizing one another up, guessing who might strike first. Janus remembers when they were friends. More than friends, even.

But whatever it is that they are, things have shifted. Virgil was not initially thrilled to know of Janus being on the road to acceptance; “not thrilled” doesn’t even begin to remotely cover it. He does everything that Janus expects – expresses that he _can’t_ be trusted, that this is a terrible idea, etc. etc. But then, he does something Janus would never have entertained the idea of: he gives in.

It isn’t immediate, and it doesn’t irradiate years of troubled history, but it happens. Virgil decides, with time, that if Thomas wants to trust Janus, if he wants him in his corner, then okay. He can work with that. He can handle it. Janus is very sure this decision is what begins to smooth things over with him and Roman – not to say they’re still exactly on the best of terms. But Virgil, to some extent, gives his apprehensive blessing.

Slowly, Janus takes up more of Thomas’s life. He participates in conversations, engages in debates. Virgil’s by no means his biggest fan, and for a while, he avoids him, leaves the room when Janus enters. But that doesn’t last.

With time, Virgil peaks out of his shell more and more. He speaks to Janus directly, their conversations not consisting of pure bitterness, though it is certainly a major component. Virgil doesn’t hiss every time Janus enters a room, doesn’t complain when he joins them for movie night, doesn’t express his distaste for him at every given opportunity. This isn’t what he’d expected of the anxious side, and Janus doesn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, he’s gaining acceptance, building stronger relationships with the light sides. Even Remus hangs around with them, sometimes, which is nice. Remus was the only one Janus had for so long. On the other hand, memories can’t help but crop up. Janus reminisces far more than is healthy, remembering the way things once were. He finds himself waking up in a cold sweat some nights, caught in the disillusionment of dreams. Sometimes, he expects to wake in Virgil’s arms, the thought always foolish, always heartbreaking.

And now, here they are, and Virgil is having a panic attack.

“ _Virgil_ ,” Janus repeats, just slightly louder, trying to push through the cobwebs of the emo’s mind, “Do you need me to get you, someone? Do you want me to find one of the others?”

Virgil shakes his head, tears running down his cheeks, smudging his eyeshadow. It isn’t the answer Janus was expecting but, okay, he can roll with this.

“Do you want me to help?”

If Virgil says no, Janus is sure he’ll have no choice but to wake one of the other sides and have them offer their assistance. Despite what others might think of him, Janus is not a monster, and he can’t find it in himself to so much as imagine leaving Virgil alone in the state that he’s in.

Virgil nods. …huh. He actually wants his help. Imagine that.

 _Shit_. Okay, okay, this is fine. Janus has done this a million times before – it’s been _quite_ a while, but still. He’s got this.

“Can I touch you?” Janus asks softly, making sure he doesn’t kneel too close to Virgil. He doesn’t want him to feel boxed in. Virgil shakes his head fiercely, pushing his back further into the couch.

“Okay,” Janus says, holding his hands up as if to say, _it’s okay, I’m not going to touch you, I’m not going to hurt you_.

Janus couches Virgil through breathing exercises, offering as much support as he’s able. He checks in often: “Is this okay? You’re doing so good, Virgil. So good. Come now, it’s alright. You’ll be alright. That’s right, in and out, just like that. That’s very good.”

It’s wrong, how natural this feels, even now. It _has_ to be wrong; Janus decides. Virgil hasn’t been much of a part of his life in so long, and now here they are, interacting like nothing’s ever been bitter between them.

 _I’d help any of the sides like this, if they needed it_ , Janus thinks to himself, trying to rationalize away the pit in his stomach, _it doesn’t make it any different that it’s Virgil I’m helping_. But even he can’t believe that lie.

It takes a while, but eventually, Janus helps him reach a calmer state. He offers Virgil a makeup wipe to remove the rest of the smudges on his cheeks, and a glass of water. Virgil takes the glass silently, his hands still trembling, and then the wipe, removing his eyeshadow. It’s the first time Janus has seen him without makeup in years, and the bags under his eyes reach nearly as far as the eyeshadow usually does.

“Are you feeling any better?” Janus asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Y-yeah,” Virgil says, his voice a little raw, a little wobbly, “I’m fine.”

“Fine” probably isn’t the right descriptor, not right now, but Janus doesn’t call him on it.

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Tension settles over the pair, heavy and intrusive. Janus shouldn’t let it surprise him, but he is. He tries not to keep his eyes trained on Virgil, scanning over the walls, the kitchen. But when he can’t help himself, when he catches sight of Virgil, he looks so damn _tired_.

“Dec–,” Virgil starts, pausing halfway through as their eyes meet, and swallowing down the word, “Janus… thank you.”

Janus doesn’t miss the way he struggles with his name, has been struggling with his name, but he’s _saying_ it. He isn’t calling him Deceit, or snake, two-faced, or any other less than polite things. He’s just… calling him by his name. It’s nice. It’s been so long.

“Of course,” Janus says, still keeping his distance. “Did… did you want me to give you some space now? Or take you back to your room?” Janus has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying ‘I don’t want to overstep.’

“No, I – you don’t _have_ to go. If you don’t want to.” Virgil’s words are anxious and quiet, but that doesn’t hinder the fact that it’s so clear Virgil doesn’t want to be alone. He wants Janus’s company, even after he’s been calmed down, and that’s… god, it’s a lot to process.

“Alright,” Janus says, pausing a moment before sitting down on the sofa beside him, albeit a distance away, “Virgil, are… are you okay?”

Virgil snorts, but the sound lacks much humor.

“Uh, _no_. I thought that was obvious?” Janus sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Right, how stupid of me. Let me rephrase; _why_ aren’t you okay? What’s wrong?” And then, he caught the look of terror in Virgil’s eyes. “Only if you want to tell me, of course. You don’t have to.”

“Why’re you doing that?” Janus blinks.

“I’m sorry?”

“Being so nice,” Virgil clarifies, wringing his hands, his eyes everted, “Why’re you being so fucking accommodating? Why’re you being so… I dunno, gentle?”

“Would you prefer I was ravenous? Is uncaring and cruel more your style? Because last I checked, it wasn’t.”

“Don’t be an asshole; you’re avoiding the question.”

“An asshole? Why Virgil, you wound me. Just a moment ago you referred to my behavior as ‘gentle.’” Virgil lets out a sigh, long and exhausted, the look in his eyes so soft it sends a shiver down Janus’s spine.

“Janus. _Please_ , just – just answer the question. I’m too tired for this shit.”

It’s the ‘please’ that really gets him. Virgil isn’t begging, but he’s damn close, and Janus doesn’t want to see that. He doesn’t want Virgil to beg, pleading for answers. In all fairness, he doesn’t want to answer, either. But what choice has he got?

“You were having a panic attack,” Janus says, his voice smooth and to the point (at least he hopes it comes across that way), “I walked into the common room, and you were alone, having a panic attack. So I helped you.”

“But this isn’t a new thing. You’ve been being nice to me for weeks. Months, maybe. Even… even when I was avoiding you.” Janus sucks in a breath. Of course, he knew Virgil had been avoiding him, but he hadn’t expected an admission. “Why?”

“Your behavior was… understandable. I know we’ve not always been on the best of terms.”

“And we are now?” Janus sighs.

“I didn’t say that. You must forgive me for trying to salvage what I can.”

It’s hard to dial down the sarcasm sometimes when he isn’t paying attention, and now certainly isn’t the time for it. still, it’s very late, and the tension is overwhelming, and it’s a crutch Janus has relied on for quite some time. Virgil too, he remembers. He isn’t the only sarcastic prick in the room.

“I didn’t… god, I’m not saying you shouldn’t try. I-it’s kind of nice, that you are. I mean, I don’t know, man, I –.”

“You’ve been trying, too. Don’t think I haven’t caught on. We’re on speaking terms, after all. And that wasn’t the case weeks ago.”

“Y-yeah, well, I kind of have to, right? If Thomas is cool with you hanging around, and the others are. I’ve gotta make an effort, or whatever.”

“But you don’t,” Janus counters, “You could still be entirely hostile towards me if you so desired to do so. I really wouldn’t blame you. You don’t have to try either, but you are.” Virgil quiets, a look of contemplation settling over his face before he nods slowly.

“Yeah… I mean, I guess so. Hey, what were you doing out here in the middle of the night, anyway? I thought you’d be getting your beauty rest.”

Truthfully, that isn’t a question Janus had been expecting. He doesn’t really have an answer, either. At least not something that made much sense.

“I just… I had a feeling, okay?”

In all fairness, it’s true. Janus had woken up with the slightest inclination that something was off. He didn’t know what it was, or why it was bothering him so much, but he couldn’t stop himself from walking into the commons room, just to check things out, to explain that odd feeling. And then, there had been Virgil.

“You had a feeling?” Virgil asks flatly, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Are – are you sure you’re not too tired? Because, if you are, we can consider this conversation later. We –.”

“Janus _stop_ it. Cut the bullshit and stop fucking lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Janus says softly, making a show of clenching and unclenching his knuckles, “See? The gloves are off.” Virgil’s eyes widen, and huh, he must not have noticed Janus’s lack of gloves until now.

“Holy shit,” he breathes the words out like it’s the most shocking thing he’s ever seen, “I don’t – I mean, I can’t remember the last time I saw you without your gloves on.” Janus shrugs.

“It’s not a big deal.”  
  
“Like hell, it’s not. You’ve always been weird about it. You never let anyone see your hands except…” Virgil pauses, his eyes grazing over the scales on Janus’s left hand. He sucks in a breath. “Except me.”

“It’s still you,” Janus says like it’s not groundbreaking, “I didn’t figure anyone else would be out here. And, I don’t sleep with them on, you know.”

“I know.”

“I’m… I’m trying to be more open, alright? Hard to believe, I know. Seeing as I’m usually _such_ an open book.”

Virgil can’t help it; he giggles. It’s a turbulent sound, still riddled with anxiety, with uncertainty. But he does it all the same.

“Right,” he says sarcastically, “ _Same_. I just _love_ talking about my feelings and all that shit.” Janus squints at him in mock offense, pressing a hand over his chest.

“Excuse me? Are you stealing my bit? Lying is my schtick, not yours, stormcloud.”

Oh. He didn’t mean to say it; he _can’t_ have meant to say it.

“What’s the matter? Virgil what’s – oh. Oh, I’m, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said that.” Janus gasps as he suddenly feels Virgil’s hand in his.

“It’s okay. I was just… surprised, for a sec. But it’s okay.”

“Virgil…”

“You want to know why I was freaking out?” It feels like a trick question. Is Janus allowed to ask? It doesn’t seem like something Virgil’s happy to share, but… he asked, right? Janus hates this, the self-doubt he’s facing. It’s not like him to be so uncertain.

“I want you to tell me whatever you’re comfortable sharing.”  
  
“Do you _want_ to know?” Janus sighs.

“…yes.”

“I was thinking about you,” Virgil says softly, his eyes widening when he catches sight of the look on Janus’s face. “Shit – no, no it’s nothing bad! I mean – kind of, but you didn’t _do_ anything.”

“Thinking about me spurred on a panic attack? How is that ‘nothing bad’? How can that possibly be ‘nothing bad’?” Panic bubbles in Janus’s throat, and it takes Virgil squeezing his hand to quiet him, that look of dread not leaving his eyes.

“I… okay, this is going to sound stupid. But –.”

“Yes?” Janus asks, desperation scraping up his throat.

“I was thinking about how things have been… different. Which, uh, is a good thing. To be clear.”

“A good thing made you have a panic attack?”

Virgil exhales sharply, looking at Janus. It’s strange, seeing him without his hat and gloves, his hat fluffy and just a little ruffled from sleep. His pajamas are silky and black and gold because, _of course,_ they are. Virgil would expect nothing else. He hasn’t looked at Janus like this, so softly and introspective in… god, he doesn’t know. A damn long time.

The resentment hasn’t burned away, not completely. The memories of lies still linger. “I’m just trying to protect you. To keep you safe!” And maybe he was, but it still hurt. Still does, sometimes. But not like it used to. These wounds haven’t healed completely, but they're old. Fading all the time.

“I got overwhelmed. I was thinking about how we’re talking again, and you’re hanging around a lot more lately and – and I freaked out.”

“Why?” Janus asks. His voice is so raw that it _hurts_. Virgil shuts his eyes, though his grip on the deceitful side’s hand doesn’t lessen.

“Because it makes me think about how things used to be,” Virgil admits in a whisper so soft it’s almost inaudible, “I think about us years ago. Do… do you ever do that? Think about the past?”

“Yes,” Janus chokes out, struggling to keep himself from saying more. From saying, ‘Yes, all the time. Every day. I miss you more than anything. I wake up with your name on my lips. Come back to me. Please, come back to me.’ “Yes, I do.”

“I… I shouldn’t have left you guys without saying anything.” Janus blinks, feeling pressure building behind his eyes, and no, he won’t cry. He won’t.

“Virgil you- you don’t have to do this.”  
  
“Yeah. I do. I left you, I left Remus. And I didn’t say anything. I was just so tired, Jan. I was so fucking tired, and – and scared, and I didn’t know what to do. And things were complicated with us, I mean, they _still_ are but I – well, you know. So… so I left. I’m sorry for that. I’m so _sorry_ , Janus.”  
  
Janus has dreamed of this moment. He’s dreamed of it forever and ever, but now that it’s happening it’s _so_ much.

“I still stand by some of it. You did some shitty stuff; you lied to me too much. I hated that. You _know_ I hated that. But… I was an asshat too. I _have_ been an asshat, even when you’ve been trying to make things right. I’m sorry.”

It takes a lot for Virgil to apologize, Janus knows it does. And here he is, exhausted, and emotional and more open than Janus has seen him in so long, just laying it all out. It’s… it’s amazing.

“It’s alright,” Janus finds himself saying, “Of course, it’s alright. Remus will say the same thing. I know you two haven’t always – haven’t always been on great terms. I know he terrorized you more often than not. But – but he misses you. Very much.”

“ _I’ve_ missed you, Jan,” Virgil says softly, eyes downcast, “…a lot.”

That, it seems, is the breaking point. Tears spring from Janus’s eyes and he lets out a choked sob, his hand retracting from Virgil and covering his mouth instinctively, as though to shut himself up. Only then is Janus aware of the fact that he’s trembling.

“I-I –,” Janus tries to push past the lump in his throat, to say “me too,” to say, “I’ve missed you terribly.” But all he can manage is tears. Janus hates the weakness he can’t help but exhibit; he hasn’t cried like this in ages.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. Can I hold you? Would that be okay?” Janus nods furiously, gasping as he feels Virgil’s arms around him. It’s edging on awkward, Virgil’s hugs always have been, but it’s _home_ and Janus never wants to be anyplace else. He buries his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck, clinging to him fervently.

He doesn’t know how their roles could have been reversed so drastically. Moments ago, he was talking Virgil down from a panic attack, and now. Now Virgil’s rubbing circles into his back, slow and gentle, and whispering words of encouragement that don’t quite make it through in Janus’s frantic state of mind. But it’s nice, knowing he’s reassuring him and holding him just as tight.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Janus pants weakly the moment he finds his voice, his face still buried in the warmth of Virgil’s neck, “For everything. I’m s-so sorry for everything, stormcloud.”

“It’s okay,” Virgil says. It’s a promise. Not a pretty lie; he _means_ it. “It’s gonna be okay, Jan. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Janus says, as passionately as he can, so that he can prove without a shadow of a doubt that it’s true, “I’ve missed you desperately.”

They sit like that for a long while, clung to each other, Janus’s tears still steadily falling. But after a while, things die down.

“There you are,” Virgil says reverently when Janus finally peaks up from where his face was hidden. He can feel the human side of his face growing flushed as Virgil cups his cheeks.

“Can… can I – ?” Virgil begins to ask before Janus’s lips are on his, a pair of hands caught in his hair. Virgil reciprocates quickly, hands settling on Janus’s shoulders, and then his sides, and in his hair, too.

It’s by no means a perfect embrace; nothing about this situation is. But it’s theirs, and it’s real, and it’s all Janus has wanted for so, so long.

“We’ll try again. We can do that, can’t we?” Virgil asks, pulling away just slightly, his breath still hot against Janus’s face.

“Yes,” Janus agrees quickly, maybe too quickly, he doesn’t care, “That’s all I want.”

“Me too,” Virgil says, smiling tiredly. Janus clings to him like he might disappear if he lets go, even for a moment. But this isn’t a fleeting dream. Not anymore.

“I love you,” Virgil says, “I… I don’t know if I ever really stopped.”

“I love you, too,” Janus whispers like it’s a prayer. Like it’s the holiest thing that he could speak aloud. “I _love you_ , Virgil.”

They’ll talk more in the morning. They’ll talk in detail about the trust that remains, the love that they still hold for one another, even after all this time, and the things they’ve got to work through. But for now, they hold onto one another, exhaustion finally fully settling in.

Sleep comes quickly, and they lie there on the sofa, a tangle of limbs. For the first time in a long time, both Janus and Virgil sleep peacefully.

=+=

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this one ended up being quite a bit longer than I thought it would be. It was my first time writing anxciet, so hopefully, I did okay. I had a lot of fun writing it. I'd love to hear what you thought and, as always, have a wonderful day/night!
> 
> Come say hi on my Tumblr, @exhaustedfander!


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